Free Indigo by Richard Wiley Page B

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    Nothing could have been further from the truth of his own life than the sexual longings of a nineteenth-century French woman, but to read about her made Jerry realize that he might be capable of leading a different sort of life someday. He could decide, for example, to teach again, or he could decide to be less private. He could even decide that his loyalty to Charlotte could continue should he discontinue his marathon homage to celibacy and living alone.
    Jerry Neal marveled at himself. He had learned a great lesson from the experiences of the last days and he decided that it had pretty much all been for the good. Unlike Madame Bovary, for him the world was wide. As he read he realized that he was not tied to anything from which deceit was the only escape. That, in fact, was what made him free. Jerry poured himself another glass of wine and felt a sense of well-being and warmth. Christmas vacation was coming and if he was no longer under house arrest by then he would use the time to travel and think. Or perhaps he would stay in Lagos after all, where he could pay close attention to the school, where he could solve the visa problems and look after the continued well-being of his spine.

Two
    On Saturday morning at eight o’clock the police came knocking on Jerry Neal’s door. Jerry had read until nearly two, struggling through the language of Madame Bovary’s life, so though the knocking awakened him, he took his time getting dressed before going out to see who insisted on doing business so early in the day.
    The same police captain who’d interrogated Jerry had pushed Jules back into the flat and was glaring at him. Jules had a frying pan in his hand, but when Jerry spoke, suggesting that Jules bring coffee, everything calmed down quickly.
    Jerry felt refreshed and in charge, and though he did not take the policeman’s visit as good news, he was determined not to be afraid. He waited until Jules had brought the coffee, and while the captain and his assistant took their own sugar and cream he spoke firmly. “Tell me why you are here,” he said. “How can I help you today?”
    â€œThere has been a development,” said the captain. He had lowered his voice too far. He did not like being in this man’s flat, and he worked his fingers around the edges of his coffee cup before saying, “The minister’s secretary has expired.”
    Jerry stared at the man, but then he made a small mistake. “I am so sorry,” he said, and when the policeman looked at him sharply he added, “for the woman, I mean, for whatever family she has that remains.”
    â€œThen you are confessing?” asked the incredulous cop. “Right here in my presence?”
    â€œOf course I’m not confessing,” Jerry said. “You know I had nothing to do with that fire.”
    Jerry wished the authorities had seen fit to send news of the secretary’s death through Lawrence Biko, and he asked why the captain thought it necessary to come himself. “It was kind of you,” he said, “but you needn’t have bothered.”
    â€œI am not a messenger,” the offended captain said. “You were released on your own recognizance concerning the crime of arson, one count. Now that you may be charged again you must surrender yourself again. If the chief criminal investigator decides to go forward with this case you will remain in detention until your day in the dock.”
    The captain’s face had grown sterner as he spoke, and when Jules came back to offer more coffee, he and his assistant both declined, putting their cups back onto Jules’s tray. Jerry was looking away from the man, trying to think fast. They were telling him that he had to go with them now. They would put him back in that holding cell with those awful other men. The smell of urine came into his living room but before he could speak again the police captain held up a hand. “If you